Snape gazed from his place at the table to the small crowd of students who gathered in the Great Hall for breakfast as usual. Little had changed since the Dark Lord had taken control, and yet so much had. The small number of students who had even turned up at Hogwarts after the holiday was the best proof that there were indeed few pure-blooded wizards and witches left. And even fewer who supported the Death Eaters' aims. Despite the decree that going to Hogwarts was now mandatory, the halls had never seen less students.

He himself was surprised at how strongly Voldemort clung to symbols and traditions, because contrary to general expectations, he had not changed anything about the house system at Hogwarts. It was a side of the Dark Lord that few people knew: his penchant for objects and customs that were highly symbolic.

The weekend still had an effect on him, so much had happened, so much had changed. It was high time; after all, there were only a few weeks left until Christmas. Only a few more weeks until Lord Voldemort planned to return to England and throw a party at Malfoy Manor to celebrate his successes in Russia. Of course, neither Lucius nor Narcissa Malfoy knew about this honour yet, but he himself had been in the loop long enough. And since he had found out about it, a plan had matured in him. After last weekend, it seemed just barely feasible for the first time.

Tired, he lowered his eyes to his plate. Tiredness was his curse. For years now, he had the feeling that he only knew leaden tiredness. Everything seemed pointless in this state, especially his own life. On Sunday, when Hermione Granger had smiled gently at him, he had felt awake for the first time in a long time. He had tried a smile himself to gain her trust, and he had been rewarded. But as soon as he returned to his apartment, as soon as Ginevra Weasley appeared in front of him, the tiredness returned. Her accusations, her dislike, her lack of understanding. She was a reflection of everything that had happened to him throughout his life, and it made him tired.

He had told Dumbledore that he was asking too much, he had meant it. And although he fulfilled the expectations that were actually far too high, it was never enough. He would do one more thing, hoping that would finally be enough. Just one more thing, then he would go to sleep. For a long, long time.

oOoOoOo

"Why?" Narcissa demanded to know angrily. She stood in her husband's study, fuming, her hands on her hips, her gaze hurt and fiery at the same time. Lucius seemed unaffected.

"First you decide not to share a bed with me anymore, but to sleep in one of the guest rooms. Then you disappear for the weekend and send Severus here to spy on me, and then you think everything is fine again just because you apologised?" the master of the house replied calmly but tensely. He had anticipated that Narcissa would make a scene in the morning. After all, he had shooed her out of the marital bedroom very late the previous evening. Still, he wondered how she could not be aware that her own actions were ridiculous.

"You left me no choice!" Narcissa retorted angrily, "It was you who fooled around with the mudblood. Do you know how hard it is for a loving wife to put up with the fact that her husband no longer finds her attractive?"

"That didn't bother you all these years, my dear," he shot down the objection, "we both know that you knew about my affairs and didn't say anything."

"What was I supposed to say?" the blonde woman asked, her voice sounding more and more desperate, now on the verge of tears of anger and despair. "I know you're allergic to jealousy. The more I tried to bind you to me, the more you would have run away! I had no choice but to accept it!"

"So that's why you sent a chaperone here and told the Dark Lord through your sister that I was a blood traitor? Of course, that doesn't make me want to leave you at all," Lucius replied sarcastically. The fact that her own behaviour actually made sense in her head was incomprehensible to him. The fact that she was endangering the whole family made him furious: "Do you understand that you're getting us all into trouble? What do you think our Lord will do to you if he really believes this nonsense? Or to Draco? Have you ever thought about Draco in your selfish actions? About our son?"

"Of course I have!" Narcissa screamed. "Why do you think I'm going this far? I'm trying to stop you from bringing us all to ruin! I'm just trying to protect my family."

"Strange way to show it," he mused, "but let's not go there. I accept your apology from last night. But that doesn't mean I can forgive you immediately. You endangered all of our lives and suspected me of having romantic feelings towards a mudblood. You can't expect me to forget that just like that. Until I have forgiven you, you will not sleep in our bed, do you understand?"

"Lucius..." Narcissa whispered desperately, but he immediately put a finger to her lips. "You are still beautiful, my dear, and I thank you for our son. But with what you've done, you've destroyed the last bit of respect and trust I had for you. It feels as though the woman I once courted no longer exists. Now go, please."

Defeated, Narcissa hung her head, turned and left the room. She lost her husband's respect, the only thing that kept her together. She knew when they married that Lucius had no real love for her, but respect, kindness, and trust had been enough for her. The tenderness he had shown her after Draco was born had warmed her heart and only increased her own love for him. But now there was nothing left of it. That she was arguing with her husband over a worthless mudblood, a slave who was nothing more than a human house-elf, was unforgivable. Everything was going downhill ever since Hermione Granger set foot in that house.

oOoOoOo

Draco wandered along the long corridor with the ancestral gallery, deep in thought. The conversation between his parents which he overheard that morning revived old fears in him. His father was a fool who obviously didn't understand what was at stake and how much he was risking with his behaviour, even after Snape's visit. Contrary to his mother and what Granger professed, he was sure there was more than just sex between the two of them. It seemed that Snape had told her that he hadn't noticed any deeper relationship, but Draco was sure that his former professor lied about that. It was impossible that he didn't notice anything.

It worried him greatly that his father had not accepted his mother's apology. She wouldn't be able to defy him, after all, he was the master of the house, but Draco had a suspicion as to who she would take her anger out on instead. And that was the reason why he made his way to the library with deliberate steps.

He didn't bother knocking on the large double doors to announce his arrival, but simply stepped inside and strode towards the brunette young woman.

"Malfoy. What are you doing here?"

He was sure he had seen a brief moment of surprised disappointment on Hermione's face, but a friendly smile immediately appeared instead. There was definitely something between his father and Granger.

"Can't I just visit my favourite slave girl like this?" he asked playfully, which earned him a scathing look.

"Very funny. I'm dying of laughter. Haha."

"My father also comes here regularly - are you complaining to him about it too?"

Annoyed, he watched as a slight blush appeared on the cheeks of the young woman in front of him before she replied harshly, "Your father has nothing to do with this."

"Oh yes, he does!" he shot back as he sat down on the desk. "I'm here because of him. Did you know that mother wanted to forgive him? I think Snape was able to convince her that he wasn't interested in you. And instead of taking the opportunity, he pushed her away. Do you think she liked that?"

"He did that?" Hermione breathed, her face reddening a little more as she looked down at her hands.

Draco grabbed her chin suspiciously, forcing her to look at him. "Did something else happen between you?"

He could see from her panicked reaction that he was right, but she just shook her head vigorously. Anger rose up in him. "Is this all a game to you? Can't you see that you're endangering others with what you're doing? Me, for example?"

"Draco," she whispered, obviously trying to control herself, "please don't think that there's more between me and your father than is proper for master and slave. I cannot deny that your father is very … fond of my body. But if you think there's more to it, feelings or something, then that's just not true."

"You make it hard to believe otherwise!" Draco replied gruffly, but he let go of her and nodded slowly. "I can only trust that you know what you're doing. And that you don't forget that everything that has to do with my father also concerns me."

Hermione nodded too and then, as if she had suddenly had an inspiration, she jumped up from her chair excitedly. "Draco! I almost forgot!"

To his surprise, she moved close to him, so close that he could feel her soft chest against his, her legs squeezed between his and her warm breath tickling his neck. Confused, he leaned down as she buried a hand in his hair and pulled his head towards her.

"I have good news," she whispered almost inaudibly in his ear, "I can't give you details, but I can assure you that there is hope. That the chances are better than ever that You-Know-Who will soon be gone."

His heart skipped a beat. What was she saying? Where would hope suddenly come from? And more importantly. "Why are you whispering?"

"Because you never know when someone is listening, you git!" Hermione replied, sounding like the know-it-all he knew from Hogwarts for the first time in a long time. "The conversation between us in your room was already careless, we musn't risk someone overhearing now."

Draco felt his blood freeze in his veins. What if someone really did overhear what he said? Despite everything, the Malfoys were still not very popular with the Death Eaters, the damage his father had caused was too great. And even if it was only his father who had overheard, that was bad enough.

"Don't let fear control you, Draco." Hermione's firm voice pulled him back. "It will only paralyse you. Just trust me. I can't promise anything, but I assure you, we have a chance."

Breathing heavily, trying not to let the panic take over, he looked Hermione straight in the eye. He could see that she was serious, that there was real conviction behind her words - and concern for him. With a frustrated sigh, he wrapped his arms around the petite body and pulled her into a tight hug.

"I never thought I'd ever say this," he murmured softly, "but I really don't know what I'd do without you, Granger."

oOoOoOo

Tired, Hermione flopped down on her mattress. Although the day had been the usual routine, she felt worn out and exhausted. Her eyes wandered around the sparse room without really seeing anything - until she noticed an object that was definitely not part of the usual furnishings. She quickly sat up, reached for the small bottle and carefully smelled its contents.

A contraceptive potion. Blushing, she remembered the previous evening and realised with horror that she had never thought about contraception. Taking a deep gulp, she downed the clear but foul-tasting liquid before forcing herself to stop thinking about her experience with Malfoy.

She was glad that she was able to be alone with Draco and tell him quickly about the new possibilities that opened up thanks to Snape. But his reaction had not been what she expected. Joyful curiosity, feigned disinterest, she would have understood. But that he would once again show her how helpless he felt and how much he depended on someone else to put his life back in order surprised her. She knew he wasn't a hero like Harry and didn't want to be, but it was strange that she, the slave, had to play the role of being his rock.

In this respect, he was like his father, who also used her to find a foothold in the gloomy present. Sighing, Hermione wondered if there were any more Death Eaters like Lucius Malfoy who suffered under Lord Voldemort's rule, not because they disagreed with his aims, but rather because they felt their freedom of action was restricted.

Closing her eyes, Hermione slowly sank back onto her mattress as tiredness enveloped her. It wasn't just the long day and the hard physical work in the kitchen that made her tired, no, she felt much more mentally drained. As much strength as she had gained from Snape's revelation, the fact that the two men in this house were using her as a source of energy, and that she felt all too clearly how much depended on her once again, exhausted her beyond measure.

For too long she had been fighting an almost overpowering opponent, for too long she had felt that so much depended on her. She needed a vacation. She needed sleep.